We heard and saw, from a distance of just a few miles, a horrific Nov. 10, a day of rage, sadly one of many, a day of disparate attempts to murder as many Jews as possible. Attacks took place within the ’49 Armistice Lines and outside of them. It doesn’t matter, they want to kill us wherever we are.
One of the stabbing murders took place in Tel Aviv.
Norrmal lives in their own state, the one country Jews are supposed to feel safe. The one place from which we can’t be thrown out, hunted down or forced to convert. So far it’s still true, but even here it is becoming harder and harder and in my opinion it is because we apologize when we try to protect our people.
A place I know well. Alon Shvut. It’s one of the Jewish communitites in Gush Etzion. It’s right next to where the big supermarket and the gas station are.
It’s also right next to the spot from which the three Jewish teenagers were kidnapped in June. The boys – we all called them “Our Boys” whose abduction set off a manhunt for two weeks, ending with the discovery of their bodies. Our boys: Eyal Yifrach, Gilad Shaar and Naftale Fraenkel.
I showed her the first headline I saw reporting the attack. “Settlers stabbed, one dead.”
“Settler? What do they mean ‘settlers?’”
I think my mother is beginning to get it. When the media refers to the Jews out here, just a few miles south of Jerusalem, as “settlers,” it turns them into something less deserving of sympathy. It is a constant form of delegitimization not only of the Jewish state, but also of Jews.